As she sputtered back to the surface, she meant to askhis highnessif that was quite enough when she heard a wealth of splashing and curses coming from beside her.
“Bloody hell, woman, it’s freezing out here!”
Roarke was standing in waist deep water, and while she could see the waistband of his trousers, he had shed his upper clothing. For a moment she forgot all else except for the rippling muscles in his arms and chest as he stood before her. Like Poseidon coming out of the water, he was surely chiseled like the Greek God of the sea might be, and even though she had seen that sculpted abdomen before, rather recently in fact, it had never held her so spellbound as it did with little water droplets chasing down that expanse.
Suddenly he was standing before her. He had to shake her lightly to get her attention. “Mara, did you hear me? I said let’s get out of here before we both catch our deaths.”
“Oh, um…yes.” She managed to stammer out, as he pulled her along behind him. She found that view equally disturbing, for those same rivulets cascaded down those wide shoulders and broad back. She couldn’t help but imagine him in her shower bath with the steam rising up between them…
Her feet touched sand, but still she seemed unable to move or come up with any sort of coherent thought that didn’t involve Roarke and his half nude body. Even when he handed her the gown and undergarments did she remain in some sort of stupor, until he finally came over and wrapped them about her like a blanket.
“Let’s get you back to the house and out of these wet clothes, shall we?”
She blinked up at him.Yes, good idea.
“I’ll make sure Mrs. Hunsaker has some tea brought to your room.”
Again, she blinked, but this time, the haze of desire was penetrated by the idea of the housekeeper joining them. “What?”
He must have been in the middle of speaking, for he looked at her askance, “I said doesn’t a nice fire sound just the thing to take away this chill?” With a shake of his head, he said, “Really, Mara, you’re starting to worry me. I think it’s for the best that you ride back to the manor with me.”
“Whatever you say,” she murmured, although the prospect of being that close to him gave her a thrill.
But she kept that secretive smile to herself.
* * *
If Roarke wasn’t soaking wet and so cold that his teeth were practically chattering, he might have laughed at the wide-eyed expression on his butler’s face when they returned. He handed Mara over to Mrs. Hunsaker’s capable hands and asked that a bottle of brandy be sent to his sitting room. Carter agreed, of course, but a plethora of questions was likely swirling in his mind. However, since Roarke wasn’t able to explain properly without giving away Mara’s true identity, he merely shook his head.
Roarke peeled off his sodden clothes in his chamber without the assistance of a valet. He laid them over the back of a chair before slipping into his velvet, dressing robe. By the time he’d shoved his feet into a pair of wool-lined slippers and took a seat by the fire, Carter had arrived.
“Ah, perfect timing.” Roarke poured two fingers worth of the fine, French liquid into a crystal tumbler. He downed it all in one swallow and leaned his head back, feeling considerably better—and warmer.
“Shall we still expect you and Miss Smith in the dining room this evening, my lord?”
“Yes, thank you,” Roarke replied out of habit, but quickly changed his mind. “Actually, no. If it wouldn’t inconvenience the staff overmuch, I’d like to do something a bit…different this evening.”
After he’d explained his idea, Carter inclined his head. “I’m sure we won’t have any problems accommodating your request, my lord. Will there be anything else?”
Roarke couldn’t help but smile to himself as he thought of Mara and her possible reaction. “No,” he said somewhat distractedly, “That should do it.”
* * *
Mara was rather surprised to receive an invitation to meet Lord Eversleigh for dinner in the conservatory. It was thoughtful of him to take her to the one place at Eversleigh Hall that meant the most to her—the glass-domed room that reminded her of her father. As the head gardener, Jack Miller had worked tirelessly to stock the area with all the prettiest flowers. It was the one location she’d avoided revisiting thus far, for she couldn’t bear to see it if it had fallen into disarray over the years like their old cottage had. It was all she had left of him. Anything else she’d taken with her to London had been sold off for food or lodgings in order to survive.
Thus, deciding to show Roarke her appreciation for his consideration, she rang for one of the housemaids.
When a young girl with brunette hair and dark eyes by the name of Sophia arrived, she wasted no time in blurting out, “I was hoping you might be able to help me with my hair. I am due to meet the viscount for dinner in about an hour and wished to look…”
When Mara faltered, the maid understood and smiled in a conspiratorial manner. “Of course, miss. It would be my pleasure.” Glancing at the empty vanity table, she asked, “I don’t suppose you have any special combs or jewelry you’d like to add to your attire?”
Mara felt her cheeks heat as she glanced down at the plain, light blue muslin dress she’d changed into. “I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for anything…formal when I came to Cornwall.”
The maid gave a quick wink. “Let me see what I can come up with. I’ll be right back.”
Mara had to refrain from pacing the floor until Sophia returned.
When she did, she had a dress draped over one arm and carried a wooden box. “Since the master gave us free rein of the attics to fetch you a riding habit, and seeing as how your trunk is still with the mail coach…” Mara didn’t bother contradicting the untruth. “…I thought it would be a good idea to see if there was anything else that could be salvaged. I found this.”
